TF2 Junkbox
by Dannyyob
Summary: A little Junk-box for my Team Fortress stories, current and future. I'm rating it T for now but chances are it'll swiftly go up to M- if it hasn't already. 1st chapter goes to BLU Spy with a little Red Soldier tossed in at the end.


A/N: So yeah, my first Team Fortress story, and just a short one at that. I got a few more ideas so when I post them- IF I post them- I'll be doing it here. (And just so you know, No I have not played the game before, but i really want to) Read, enjoy and tell me what you think.

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><p>The BLU Spy Blues<p>

It was unfavorably cool in the small chamber he found himself trapped within. Well, not unfavorable exactly- on the scale of all things it tilted more towards unbearable, really. The chill captured in the air around him was pervasive, seeping past the skin and slowly but surely numbing him to the core. It was the kind of cold that slowed you down, made it difficult to think, to react. The only thing that made the situation even more unpleasant was the darkness that pressed in all around him. The only thing keeping the darkness at bay, keeping it from overwhelming him completely, was the tiny red light that hovered just a few inches in front of his face. One puff… and the little light bloomed, swelling just a little bigger, a little brighter, before dying back down. The Spy stared distantly at the tiny ember, watching it grow ever closer as it slowly burned through the cigarette perched on his lips.

How long had he been in here? His mind struggled to answer the question. How much time had passed since that sadistic bastard had shut the door and left him here in the dark to freeze in utter misery? A few minutes? Non, surely it had been longer, at least over an hour. But just _how much_ longer had it been?

Bon Dieu! How could he have been so careless? Amidst all the gunfire explosions and screaming it should have been an easy kill. How could he have screwed it up so bad?

The Announcer had called the final minute just as he was dispatching that lunatic RED Soldier. In less than sixty seconds his work day would have come to an end. Furthermore, it was a Friday and the weekends were usually always deemed ceasefires (so that maintenance could be performed on the Respawn systems). He'd recently discovered that a new restaurant was opening up not far from where he lived outside the bases. Maybe he would go check it out, see if any of the waitresses were suitably beddable. He was already making plans to do just that when he'd rounded a corner and Bam! There he was. His target had been right before him, his white back deliciously exposed and oh so vulnerable since the fat man was nowhere to be seen.

He couldn't resist. But as he made his move something had alerted his prey. Had he made a sound or was it merely instinct? Whatever it was, just as he was about to lodge his knife between his victims shoulder blades the man had dodged! And before he could react he'd seen the man turn, something glinting in his hand as he swung his arm around and then-

Nothing. He hadn't even felt any pain. Everything had gone predictably dark, just as it always did. But instead of opening his eyes back in his teams Respawn chamber, he'd reawakened in the enemies Medical bay, looking up into the Medic's face as he looked back at him with a triumphant smirk.

Again.

Spy tried to sigh and shake his head, only remembering that he _couldn't_ when he failed to do so.

Merde. How many times did this make? It had happened often enough that he'd lost count. Would his teammates even realize what had happened to him? No. He sincerely doubted that any of them would even put in the effort to try. For all that Respawn was a miraculous thing that allowed them to die and rise- over and over again- it had the unfortunate downside of shutting off its Generators right after the clock struck five. Anybody who died after that time wouldn't be restored until the next morning or the following Monday. Furthermore, he never made it a habit to check in with his teammates. Usually the moment a match ended he simply vanished to do whatever he pleased. Eight to five, Monday through Friday his time belonged to BLU, but every second outside that parameter belonged to him and he'd be damned if he wasted a single moment of it to endure one of the mindless rants his Soldier called 'debriefings'. No, they probably wouldn't realize he was missing until he failed to show up in the Respawn chamber where they met before their match.

Three days from now.

Returning his attention back to the cigarette he realized with a start that it had grown considerably shorter, the tiny glow flickering just an inch from his face. In maybe a few more minutes the cigarette would go out and then… the darkness would claim him. Completely. Suddenly his entire being was flooded with Fury.

_Merde! Baise! Merde! Baise! Merde Putain Saluad! Ce fut conneries!_ The man was a monster, lacking in even the basest manners… such as having the courtesy to actually kill his opponent! Non, worse than that! Through a repetition of trial and error the fiend had instead devised a particularly cruel method of torture suited specifically for him! Trapped in a state of immobility the sick man would taunt him, playing twisted mind games and forcing him to 'cooperate' in the most menial of tasks. And when he tired of him, rather than releasing the Spy, giving him the many-times promised death he so desired, the man would toss him in here. But before he'd go the Medic would play one last cruel hand.

What better way to torture a man than to lock him away in a dark place and let him watch as his only source of light died slowly before his eyes? That he had used one of his own fags, an expensive brand which Spy couldn't even enjoy in his current condition, further proved he was a devil clothed in a man's skin! When he was free of this prison and finally got his hands on that German Witch Doctor he was going to gut him like a Cornish game hen and then strangle him with his own intestines! He'd carve the skin off him while he was still alive, slowly, agonizingly! Brand him with a hot poker! Twist screws into every digit on his hands and toes! Hang him from the ceiling and watch him suffer from asphyxiation! Whip him- non, not that. Aside from the Medi-gun treatment the man had a repulsive fetish for pain- it would probably only get him off. Well, in that case, let's see how well he enjoyed having an Ubercharge go off with the barrel of his precious gun crammed up the soft tissues of his-!

A sudden noise interrupted the Spy's internal dialogue, making him go very still as he listened. Beyond the door of his chilly prison he could hear somebody moving around outside, making their way towards him. '_Was it the Medic? Non, he'd already left some time ago. But then who-'_

Before he could speculate any further the door was thrown open and light flooded the chamber, blinding him.

"-know that Fritz keeps his booze somewhere-" The grumbling voice that greeted Spy's ears suddenly stopped as the speaker caught sight of him and Spy's eyes quickly regained their sight until he was staring up at the enemy Soldiers face.

'_Oh merde_.'

"THAT SCUM SUCKING NAZI BASTARD!" the Soldier suddenly screamed, going red in the face. "HE STOLE ONE OF MY HEADS!" shooting a grubby hand into the fridge, The RED reached for Spy's head.

"Don't touch me you filthy Brute!" Spy shouted back, startling the American.

There was a moment of stunned silence as the Soldier stared incomprehensibly at him, his wide eyes visible from this angle. His mouth opened and closed several times as he tried and failed to formulate words. The Spy just stared back at him wordlessly, eyes set in defiance. Finally, after nearly a minute of gawping like a brain dead fish, the Soldier managed to utter out a string of intelligible words.

"I… that…a-a talking…head?"

'_Oh Seigneur, an astute observation!_' the Spy thought snidely, sneering up at the man.

"W- why does _he_ get a talking head!" The Soldier suddenly cried out in a whinny voice, staring down at his disembodied head like a jealous child who'd just found out the kid down the street had gotten exactly what he'd always wanted. Glaring up into his ugly mug the Spy witnessed it as a light went on in the Soldier's eyes and a feeling of dread washed over him as, like that same child had just been told Christmas had come early, the man suddenly grinned.

'_Oh no-'_ the Spy thought as that deranged lunatic moved his hand back into the fridge. _'-Oh Nonononono! Oh Mon Dieu, somebody, please just—'_

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><p>"-and to take away the energy of the opposing armies, take away the heart of the opposing generals… even if you have to rip them out of their bleeding sissy ribcages yourself! Sun Tzu said that!" The Red Soldier declared marching back and forth in front of the line of severed heads balanced precariously on the rickety wooden fence. Suddenly he turned, facing the BLU Spy who was nestled smack dab in the middle.<p>

"And what do you have to say to that, Private!" The Soldier suddenly barked, leaning forward expectantly, his eyes shining brightly as he awaited an answer.

The Spy stared up sullenly at the Soldier. Then, knowing that not speaking would just earn him another painful whack to the head, repeated the same words he'd been uttering for the past hour.

'Kill me- now!"

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><p>AN: So... did i do good?

Translations for French: Bon Dieu!(Good God); Merde!(shit); Baise!(Fuck); Merde Putain Saluad!(shit fucking bastard!); Ce fut conneries!(this was bullshit!); Mon Dieu(my god); Seigneur(Lord)


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